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“I was.”
“The second time you invited her because of me, it wasn’t for me.”
“Well, that’s not completely true. I wanted you to be happy. The fact her presence served a dual purpose wasn’t so bad.”
“You wove her into your business through the Byrne brothers.”
“Not directly connected, no. Connected enough he knows she trusts me.”
“What about me? Why me?”
“You reminded me of a younger Carys at the fundraiser. So cool and collected with this hint of danger.” He winks at me. “I thought you’d be irresistible to him.” His gaze rakes over me. “Turns out you were irresistible to me.”
Warmth spreads through me. I press my back into the seat and look down at my hands. Chad’s blood is gone, and what’s left in its place is Finn’s. “Did he ever say anything to you about Carys?”
“No. He’d never want me to know for sure. But there was something about the way he was with her. And then, again, at the door talking to Thomas about what happened in Ireland.”
“You understand Finn well.”
“Spent a lot of years studying him, wanting to be like him.”
“You wanted to be like Finn?”
“He’s my older brother.” Lorcan frowns. “I don’t have the stomach for it, though. I can do the hard things if they must be done. I don’t get pleasure from it, and it’s easier to do those things if my heart is in it. It needs to feel justified.”
An image of Lorcan, standing above Malik, fists clenched, surfaces.
I blink, forcing the memory out. “You’re taking what’s happened to your brother better than I might have expected.”
He glances at me and then rubs my leg. “That’s the life we lead, isn’t it? We’re a single mistake away from death.”
If he survives this, my mistake will be letting him live, not putting that final bullet in him. What was it Finn said once? Mercy will get you killed.
When we get to the hospital, there’s a petite blond woman waiting to take us to a private room to wait for news about Finn. We’re no sooner seated across the room from each other and the door closed when I turn, my curiosity piqued. “How are you getting the red-carpet treatment?”
“You mean because I’m a lowly mobster?”
I purse my lips. “That’s not what I said. But—” I shrug. “Might not be far off from what I meant.”
He chuckles and flexes his hands as he puts his elbows on his knees. “My mum.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“When she was dying, she was here at the last. She didn’t want to die at home.” He tilts back in the chair and focuses on the ceiling. “Didn’t want the place tainted with death. My father thought the facilities here were barbaric. He donated a lot of money.” He focuses on me. “Now, I think it was probably inhumane watching my mum die. That’s how it felt to me. Like we could’ve done better somehow.”
The grief still so raw on his face stirs my losses to the surface. Without letting myself think too much, I cross the room and crouch, hugging him tight.
His voice is gruff in my ear as he says, “Where’ve you been all my life?” His arms circle me, tugging me onto his lap.
There’s a muted knock on the door.
“Come in.” He tightens his grip, preventing me from moving away again.
It’s the same woman. Her gaze bores into us before she clears her throat. I don’t like the way she lingers on Lorcan. “They’re doing a full assessment. I’ll come back when I have more information.”
“Thanks, Fiona.” His hand squeezes my waist as Fiona ducks back out of the room.
“She comes in here to brief you?”